


Come down when you're ready

by smallblip



Series: Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblip/pseuds/smallblip
Summary: “When this war is over, I would like to take you out.” Jean says. He thinks maybe he’s tired. That’s the reason he’s being so bold. He’s tired and he simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind his eyes.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & Jean Kirstein, Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein
Series: Higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135907
Comments: 18
Kudos: 173





	Come down when you're ready

“When this war is over, I would like to take you out.” Jean says. He thinks maybe he’s tired. That’s the reason he’s being so bold. He’s tired and he simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind his eyes.

“Where?” She replies, teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep. She chuckles, drawing self-conscious laughter from Jean. It’s silly. He’s spent so much time in his childhood thinking about bubblegum kisses and girls in babydoll dresses. They would hold hands, take a walk in the park, have ice cream, the works. But when it comes to her and the time he’s spent dancing with death, he’s slightly embarrassed at how frivolous they now sound.

But Jean remembers going to town for supplies in the Summer and watching the crowds near the riverbanks. And he remembers Mikasa watching the families on their picnic mats, something he reads as longing crossing her face. “A picnic?” He muses, “we could take a picnic basket to the markets in the morning, gather some food, head to the river...” He trails off, suddenly hyper aware of how he must sound. Like a fool throwing rocks at shut windows, serenading the winds. He bites the inside of his cheeks.

“What would you like to do?” Jean asks after a moment of silence.

Mikasa hums, “I haven’t really... Thought about it...” and she leaves it as that. Jean doesn’t push further, because her shoulders are tense, like she’ll scurry for cover if he does. They’ve been at this so long- this practiced dance, ginger steps balanced on tip toes- one wrong move and the lights come on.

Thankfully, she shifts a little closer to him, head on his chest, listening to the thrum of a heart through flushed skin- a heart that beats for her. Past the guilt, she allows herself to relax into the warmth.

Even though he knows her in ways only a lover would, even though he’s seen the curves and lines of her body, has trailed his palms over every scar, the proximity never fails to make his breath catch in his throat. There’s a squeezing in his chest and it’s becoming increasingly hard to tell if it’s love or the pain of knowing she’ll never love him back.

“I’m sorry...” she says, as if she hears the war in his mind. Her fingers trace over imaginary lines on his chest.

“It’s alright.” He replies without missing a beat. They’ve been through this before. Talked about it one too many times because she doesn’t want to hurt him or promise him more than she can afford. 

_You know I can’t give you what you want, Jean..._ she had said when he had first undressed her. The reality of the situation settles in the pit of his stomach like sediment. But he had dreamt of this moment for years, since they were children, a little too curious for their own good. _I know,_ he had said. _I know_ , once more for his benefit.

But night after night, Jean asks if he can kiss her, and every time the answer is a breathless-

Yes.

So night after night he peels back her skin like a lover, with shaking hands, painfully gentle. He hopes that he can take her mind off everything, off the hot sear of blood on skin, off the orders to kill and destroy and take, and off the boy with the green eyes. The rest of the world be damned. He kisses her until they’re both breathless and lightheaded because the feeling that blossoms in his chest is exquisite. The feeling of being impossibly close to her is exquisite. They are almost always gentle. After years of fighting, there’s little pleasure in brute force.

 _Mikasa you know how I feel about you_. Jean says when they’re both slick with sweat, their hearts steadying. It’s for his own benefit. He doesn’t need to hear it back. He already knows the answer. This proclamation of love is one of the last things he owns on this mortal coil. He thinks about getting a cigarette, but he wonders what she would think about his new habit, if she would mind. So he doesn’t. He leaves the cigarettes to stolen moments by the trees, sometimes joined by Connie, sometimes by a sheepish Armin, sometimes by Hanji who never seems to have a stash of her own.

 _I know... And I’m sorry..._ she says. And Jean hates how she always feels the need to apologise. He wasn’t looking for an apology.

 _Nothing to be sorry about,_ he smiles, _I just wanted you to know_. He tells her again that he expects nothing in return. But a part of him feels sorry for himself. He thinks about the girls back when life had been simpler. Wonders about a future with them. But all he can picture is her raven hair, her porcelain skin, the blush on her cheeks, her brows set with the determination of a soldier.

 _In another life maybe..._ she says.

And Jean had understood what she had meant. He thinks about it now as he holds her flush against his chest, fingers stroking her arm absentmindedly.

Mikasa thinks she’s cursed. She has to be. Everyone she’s ever loved or cared about in her cursed life ends up getting hurt. The only boy she’s ever loved has pushed her away more times than she can count. Everything is clear now in the light. He’s never wanted her- will never want her. And soon they will have to kill him.

And yet Jean is here. He’s drifting off to sleep, she can tell. He’s breathing in a way that can only mean he’s only partially conscious. Mikasa allows herself to smile at the sight. And a part of her wonders why he stays, why he allows himself to hurt over and over. This life has given her nothing, and yet, there is beauty in the way Jean chuckles when she trips while pulling her trousers on in the morning, and he’s looking at her with such endearment that she almost thinks she could be the luckiest girl on earth. She would return a smile then, sheepish, hoping her inexperience with anything tender isn’t showing.

Jean on the other hand, has always been a natural. He tells her who she is when they’re making love, whispered sweetly in her ear-

_you’re beautiful, Mikasa, you’re so beautiful._

He pulls her close even in sleep, he gives her his last piece of meat, he has saved her more times than she remembers.

Mikasa reaches tentative fingers to his face, cupping his cheek where stubble has grown, he’s a man now, features as handsome as ever. And she’s a woman. Her body taut from years of fighting, her breasts tight against her chest, and the softness around her hips fading. Sometimes she wonders what Jean sees in her still.

“You’re so good to me...” she whispers, half hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he does-

“My mother taught me well...” he winks, a try at suavity, but his eyes had widened from her hand on his cheek, and the tips of his ears have gone red. “You deserve it...” he says, quieter, so quiet that Mikasa almost misses it.

 _Your maman would hate me..._ Mikasa thinks. _The cursed girl with the cursed life, everything withers under her touch._ “She sounds lovely...” Mikasa says instead.

“She would love you.” Jean shrugs.

“Really?” Mikasa says, completely absorbed in how gentle his gaze is, her hand slips from his cheek to the back of his neck where she plays with the soft fuzz of hair.

He presses a chaste kiss on her forehead. “What’s there not to love?”

She laughs. _Mikasa you’re so loved..._ her mother had said to her once when she had been a child, wide-eyed and innocent. Perhaps she is the luckiest girl on earth, she thinks, surprising herself with her sudden defiance.

“My mother...” Mikasa starts, hesitant. She never talks about her parents, not to anyone. So this is unfamiliar territory. “She would love you too...” Because she remembers the things her mother had told her about gentle boys, the ones who are patient, who will look at her like she’s treasure.

And Jean looks at her now, like she’s the best thing in the world- something amazing to behold, even though her hair is now cropped short and she has traded in her softness for callouses from gripping her blades- like treasure.

“Your dad... Would he chase me with a shotgun?” Jean attempts at humour and it works because she’s giggling. What a beautiful sound, bright like a bell.

“He’s a very good shot...” she teases, “but no... He’ll offer you some of the jerky he makes... I think... And if you tell him they’re good, you’re essentially family.”

“Jerky huh... Got it...” Jean says and Mikasa thinks this is nice. It’s nice to laugh and talk about the past, to talk about what ifs. It’s especially nice talking with Jean. He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t expect more of her than she can give. In fact, he doesn’t expect anything of her at all. It’s nice inhabiting this space with him, where a kiss on the lips can mean nothing or everything all at once.

So Mikasa pulls him down towards her and presses her lips against his. He deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers exactly the way she likes. And she pulls on his bottom lip the way she knows would drive him crazy. When they pull apart to breathe she can’t help but chuckle at the dazed expression on his face. Jean scoffs, but there’s no harshness behind the sound, he grins, ever so charming, and reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Mikasa thinks maybe she’s tired. That’s the reason she’s being so bold. She’s tired and she simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind her eyes, so she starts with-

“A picnic sounds nice...”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a little Jeankasa! I love this ship, they are my babies and should be protected at all costs! If you’re here from levihan fandom, hello💖
> 
> Talk to me about them, I'm at smallblip.tumblr.com


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